The Eyes Have It
by StephanieIrvine
Summary: There has always been something about her eyes. He just can't escape them. He never will, because he never wants to. Chris and Stephanie.


**Disclaimer: They don't belong to me. Sadly they never have. Maybe one day.

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A/N: An actualy story, after such a long period of time? Well, I hope that you enjoy this story.

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**The Eyes Have It.**

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The very first time he had ever saw her - so long ago, that he had a hard time recalling - he had noticed them. They had been the first thing he had took notice of because they were so much like his own, yet, they had a million differences. His were sharp and vibrant, her own were soft and showed their innocence. They showed nothing that she portrayed on screen. He guessed then, unbeknownst to his younger self, was when it had all began, when his infatuation had infected him. Over time it had manifested and grew and he was now drowning in a hopeless pool of never-ending blue. He wondered, if being mesmerised by her eyes was a natural thing.

Did she have that effect on every person or was he just the sole person who noticed how they changed in that split second and was forever captivated?

They had, had a productive story line over the years, and he couldn't help but become her friend. Unlike her character and the persona she projected to the crowd, she was nothing like that. Stepping behind the curtain that separated the real world from the staged world, she changed, became her own person. A shower and a change of clothes, washed away any trace of who people considered her to be. The make-up faded and her eyes shone through.

One time, where the days had blended together in their busy schedule, they had been talking about an upcoming show, where he would have to put her in his signature move. He didn't want to hurt her, but she hadn't cared; her eyes were alive with excitement - she had been in her prime then, with him - and in an uncharacteristic move, she had started an uncontrollable babble. The subject? He couldn't remember. All that lived on in his memory of that day, were her eyes. How they had gone from her natural blue, to such a blinding blue, in such a short space of time and cause his mind to derail from whatever the hell he had been thinking. He was entranced by them, and all that they held and hid. It wouldn't be until later, - further on in both their lives, - that he would find out just what she hid behind those eyes.

Maybe, it was in that instant, he wondered, that was his undoing. Where his infatuation, turned to lust. Of course, his reasoning then, was mostly hindered by denial.

Their time had come and gone on screen, time had moved on, they had got older and he hated to say, grown apart. The circles they travelled in halved and went their own ways. He went in one and she in the other. He saw her every now and then, gave her a wave and a '_Hi.'_ in greeting and then they had their own things to do, their own life to lead, that didn't include each other. Months passed, and when he wasn't busy, sometimes he thought about them - and if he was honest with himself, her too - and how they gleamed in the light, and how that said light, made the pigments in her eyes translucent with color. They drove him crazy, now with accurate honesty, he could say with desire. There were nights where he lay back in his bed, his closed eyes, and there they were; gazing into his own. If he was lucid enough, he could picture her eyes, and then form the rest of her too.

Was he in love with her eyes first? Or did that propel him to act?

It had been chance how they met up again, he had been running late; everything in his bag had fallen out and he had to stay and pick it up. After he had, he had walked down the deserted hallway and as if fate had intervened, he had heard a noise. He wasn't one to be nosey but, for some reason, he couldn't help himself. He had heard it again, followed it, and pushed open the door. There she was; her eye misted over with unshed tears. Not that she hadn't let the tears fall, she had, the tracks running down her cheeks were proof of that.

Walking closer to her, he knelt beside her, his hand on her shoulder. If it gave her the tinniest bit of support, he would give it willingly. "What's wrong?" he had asked her then.

She had sniffled in reply.

"How can I help, if I don't know what's wrong?" he had pointed out reasonably.

She had looked up then, and he almost staggered back. Her eyes were the deepest, darkest grey he had ever seen. The pain she conveyed in them, were almost to much for _him_ to handle.

Reaching up, his hand wiped away the tears that clouded her eyes, making them shine in an unhealthy way. "Tell me, Princess. Tell me, so I can make it better." Because more than anything, all he wanted then was to make it better, to make her eyes blue and happy.

"Chris," she had sobbed. "It hurts. It's all a lie."

"A lie?" he had wondered thoroughly confused. "Stephanie, what was?" he had asked, pulling her to him.

He had felt her breath heavily against his chest, and he had reached up and smoothed his hand through her hair then. "My dad. Vince. He...he..." she had stuttered out. "His heart condition. It's a lie. There is none."

He had remembered when the news had dropped that the almighty Vince McMahon, had trouble with his heart. Which was ironic, Chris thought, seeing as how Vince didn't have a heart to begin with. From what he had heard Stephanie hadn't been speaking to her father then, some fallout over his egotistical behaviour backstage. Stephanie didn't care for it; the overpowering, the affairs, and Godlike complex. Vince hadn't cared either; about what Stephanie had cared about, until it was to late. Until his daughter had cut all ties with him, except business. Apparently, when Shane had told her the news, she had stopped what she had been doing and came to her fathers side, sorry for everything she had caused him. She blamed herself for his condition.

"There is none? But, I thought..." he had started, only to trail off as she had looked up at him with _those_ breathtaking eyes.

"Tax scam or something." she had breathed out. "I went to visit him, you know, give him a little surprise, and there he was, laughing it up with his associate." she had explained, sketchily, not to sure on the details herself. "I came here, trying to forget it, but it just got to much and I just broke." she ended dejectedly.

"That man is the definition of corruption, and a few other choice words." Chris had remembered saying.

He had spent the night listening to her. Letting her talk it out: vent, rage, occasionally yell and scream. And that was when it had started. When lust, has slowly, but most certainly, surely, turned to love. He couldn't help but be submerged by the fiery glow in her eyes. And couldn't help but want, the emotion in her eyes to be directed at him. The fire, that in any other _happy_ situation, meant; passion and mischief. God how he yearned for it.

After that, he was what she called him, her rock. He listened to her good days, her especially, excellent, albeit rare days, her bad and disastrous days. He listened to them all. Whether it was on the phone or in person. Though he hadpreferred the latter of the two, due to the fact, that he could look at her and take in her everything. He had slowly added, it wasn't just her eyes that had captivated him anymore. He could tell you how many smiles she had. Seven: her tired/sleepy one; her fake one, that didn't quite reach her eyes; her genuinely happy one, that _did_ reach her eyes, and blew him away; her shy one, yes, she even had a shy one; her _'I-know-something-you-don't-know.'_ smile; then there was her smirk, how she ruled with that self satisfying, facetious smirk; then there was her smile for him, he couldn't quite place the emotion behind it, but it was for him only, and he loved that she saved a smile for him.

Then a night, not unlike any other, they had been laughing and joking, and her eyes had held him in a trance, yet again,with their sparklingly vivid blue. He had knew, he was forever going to be lost if he kept looking into them and do something that might warrant their friendship to stall and end; but for the life of him, he just couldn't find the will to care. He had craved the taste of her lips more so than anything, and his feelings had overpowered anything his mind was likely to object to, and that is how he had found himself kissing her.

He had never tasted her lips before, but he could honestly say, he had never tasted any sweeter lips than Stephanie's before. The jolt of electricity that seemed to flow through him and into her, seemed never endless. Hehad beententative to begin though, giving her the chance to pull away if she felt the need, but she hadn't and he couldn't help but smile into the kiss, pushing into it, deepening the emotional bond he had so carelessly thrown out there. His hand had inched up slowly, tentative like his kiss had been, ithadstill obviously been behind, most probably because he had turned his brain off to anything that would stop him, from doing exactly this. It had then entangled in her hair and pulled her closer and he knew then that this was everything he had wanted since he had noticed her eyes the very first time he had seen her.

Even if it had taken him a few years to figure it out.

Oxygen was a good thing though, not necessarily better than the taste of Stephanie's lips but it was a good thing. So he had pulled back and looked at her, and cursed. Her eyes were closed. He could tell anything that she was feeling by the color of her eyes. Even the slightest change. But her eyes were closed. This presented a problem. If she didn't open her eyes, he would most likely have a melt down inside his head and that would just not appease him. He was seconds away from voicing his thought when, he saw them flutter open, and he was rooted to the spot.

Her eyes were grey. Darker than he had ever seen them before. They had struck him dumbfounded. The only other time he had seen them grey was when he had found her crying. The last thing he wanted to do was make her upset, but apparently that was what he had done. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words never left his mouth. She was kissing _him_ this time, and the sparks of electricity that jolted to and fro through them seemed to build up in charge until they overpowered and short circuited, leaving them with nothing but the feel of each other.

Dark grey, in Stephanie's eyes were always his favourite. From the moment they had kissed, till his life in the present moment, it was always going to be his favourite. It show her want. Her want for him. He never wanted that to disappear: not even when she was excited or happy or sad or angry; there was always a little glint dancing around in them, that was forever his.

But in essence, her eyes were just the tip of the iceberg. When he looked longer; stared harder and gazed lovingly, he saw the whole of her, and he thanked whoever it was that made him notice her eyes that one time, because without that, he would have her. And she was his everything. The eyes just led him to finding that.

**End.**


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